


A Tenacious Love

by Regole



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regole/pseuds/Regole
Summary: Tobi had ripped them apart and then lost control over them, leaving Iruka to deal with both his ever-stubborn, delinquent former student as well as the subject of every nightmare he had faced for the past sixteen years. But there are things even teachers can learn, and some lessons last longer than the life of the person who teaches them.





	A Tenacious Love

**Author's Note:**

> This piece took nine years and eleven days to complete. I’m pointing that out because after all this time it’s canonically inaccurate and therefore contains a concept(s) that’s been rendered obsolete. But in the interest of finishing one of my many unfinished works, I just went with what was there. It's not so bad.  
> Word Count: 2280  
> Date Submitted: 7/20/19  
> Disclaimer: All credit to Kishimoto-sensei for providing material I’ve found so inspirational.

“Iruka-sensei, please?”

Tenacious.

Iruka had not been the one to coin the term in regards to Konoha’s favorite delinquent and he did not know who had, but when he had heard it used in that way he had nodded knowingly. Because he did know how Naruto was, and that word fit perfectly.

“ _Please_?”

He simply had not realized _how_ perfectly.

“But _why_?” he asked frantically. “You don’t owe that _thing_ any peace.”

Naruto smiled weakly. “No, but . . . I think he needs it.”

“It seems he really is exactly like his mother,” Kakashi had observed before heading off to fight. “He just won’t give up and die.”

Iruka had thought it a horrible thing to say, especially considering the circumstances and the jounin’s wry tone. But when he had asked Tsunade if she could explain the comment, she had said, “This happened to Kushina, too, and she survived as well. For quite some time, as I understand it—long enough to see the sealing through, and with enough chakra left over to donate it for the cause.”

Even so, Iruka could not comprehend what seemed to be driving the blond. Naruto reminded him of a cat his mother had owned during his childhood, and once his parents had died in the kyuubi’s attack he had continued to care for it himself. Late one Friday evening, however, not long after he turned seventeen, it had begun to act weary and would often stop after taking a few steps and lie down to rest. He had wondered if it was ill, because it had been at least ten years old even before his parents’ deaths, but its big yellow eyes had been perfectly bright and alive and its appetite had been normal; it had seemed more than a little annoyed at its weakness, but hardly sick. Still, he had resolved to take it to a veterinarian immediately at the start of the next week, only when Monday morning came he had found its stiffening body in the corner of the kitchen. It had been lying in front of its food and water bowls as though waiting for breakfast, unaware that it would never be able to enjoy another homemade meal.

That, to Iruka, was Naruto right at that moment. Unlike the cat, the blond was obviously physically ill; in a mere two hours his body had become painfully wizened, as though all the water had been sucked out of him. Despite that, he had joked— _joked_ —that he was simply giving everyone a peek at what Tsunade really looked like under her youth jutsu. But just like the cat, Naruto’s eyes were the same rich and clear blue they had always been, still looking beyond his own needs to see to the comfort of others. He was acting like everything would be all right even though everyone around him knew it could not be—it was far too late to correct the evil perpetrated by the man who was probably the greatest villain Konoha had ever had the misfortune to encounter. And still, Naruto smiled.

“Please, Iruka-sensei, I’m begging you.”

“Stop it,” Iruka snapped, a bit short-tempered. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere.”

Naruto snorted faintly—any harder would probably hurt. “I’m sure you could _carry_ me.”

“You’d be killed! _Instantly_!”

“I’m going to die anyway,” was the soft, calm response. “What difference is it supposed to make if I go out a few minutes or hours sooner?”

That was something interesting about Naruto, and one thing about Kushina that Iruka _did_ remember. As the world around them got more and more panicked, they became more and more quiet. Controlled. Each had a temper that would have made a rabid bull proud, but when the situation put innocents at risk, that was when they always changed. They suddenly embodied the ‘still waters run deep’ cliché, and for Naruto in particular, his Sage training at Myobokuzan had helped him to become so very still. Though he angered quickly and sometimes acted hastily, at the same time his truly meaningful furies never clouded his judgment.

In the end, Iruka gave in. With the same fear as someone holding a fine glass figurine, he gathered Naruto in his arms and carried his favorite delinquent out of the administration building. The trembling earth and the sounds of a monster’s roars brought back old trauma; Iruka broke into a cold sweat, but was intent on seeing things through because for the moment, Iruka was the only one of Naruto’s friends who was around to care about him, listen to the things he said, and respect his final wishes.

The streets Iruka walked were mostly empty—only on occasion would civilians dash past heading in the opposite direction, terror written on their faces. With that being the case, he made good time to Konoha’s main gate, though how he had managed to get there when his eyes were locked on hunched, red-furred shoulders he did not know. He got strange looks from the shinobi who were there—all of whom were either injured or iryounin carrying out triage—but ignored them to step past the tall but ultimately useless walls of the village and into the path of the thing that had haunted his nightmares for sixteen years.

Iruka had not thought it possible, but the kyuubi looked a thousand times worse than Naruto did. Whatever Tobi had done to separate them, he must have made a huge mistake somewhere—perhaps he incorrectly predicted Naruto’s struggle or the fox’s impatience. Whatever it was, the kyuubi was literally falling apart where it stood. Its body was malnourished and incomplete, so as it rampaged its flesh tore and flopped and tore more, until its hide was hanging from it in strings and sheets of bloody fur. Muscle and bone were exposed in places and the pain only made the fox’s rage greater, which worsened its condition, which caused more pain, which resulted in more rage, and so on—a positive feedback loop of self-generated agony. Despite everything, Iruka suddenly pitied it.

“Put me down,” Naruto said.

Iruka obeyed slowly, arms at the ready in case Naruto could not support himself. But he was steady enough to step forward and hold out his right hand to the gigantic fox in an easy, untroubled reaching gesture. “Come on,” he instructed, gently and with a tinge of humor, “let’s go.” The kyuubi screeched and snapped, but did not attack. Iruka realized it had actually been _speaking_ when Naruto said, “I _know_ you’re hurting. I want to _stop_ that pain.”

The kyuubi, however, was not going to comply so easily. It argued and protested and held out for hours, but its fury was stayed at least for the time being, and with the majority of its motion halted its pain was lessened and its body stopped ripping into chunks. In less agony, it began to display a modicum of civility, and after two hours of debate with Naruto, it sat down gingerly. At the three-hour mark, both the kyuubi and Naruto fell silent. The relative peace continued, but shinobi—having halted their attacks at Naruto’s request and Tsunade’s doubtful and oath-filled command—observed anxiously from the trees, counting the seconds and hoping it would last until all the civilians could be ushered to a safer area. Half an hour after that, the kyuubi grumbled.

Naruto nodded and replied softly, “Yeah, I know we’re dying, you ugly bastard. And we’re going to die either way. But the way this is going, your death is going to hurt a lot more than mine.” There was a snarl, and Naruto shrugged eloquently. “I don’t care. If you think you can make my death hurt worse than yours, do whatever the hell you want. I can’t _make_ you do what you don’t want to—I’m just trying to help. But I can tell you one thing you can’t argue, you vain son of a bitch. _My_ body isn’t falling to pieces as we speak.”

The kyuubi bared its fangs in displeasure, but did not strike out. After another long silence, Naruto made a noise not unlike the sounds the fox had already been making. The kyuubi’s ears turned forward, intent on whatever Naruto was saying in what was apparently some vulpine language. After finishing the word or phrase or sentence, Naruto gazed up at the kyuubi solemnly and asked quietly, “If you trusted me enough to tell me that, why can’t you trust me now? What difference does pride make anymore? Nobody’s getting the last laugh this time—not Konoha, not Madara, not the Yondaime, and certainly not me. Don’t worry so much, old fox. You’re still as badass in death as you were in life, and you’ll be remembered for it.”

The kyuubi hesitated for a long while, but at last stretched out its pain-stiffened forelegs and lay itself down just outside the main gate of the village. That left Naruto practically hidden in what of the red chest fur remained, but he turned and put a hand on the fox’s massive neck and used it to brace himself as he moved toward its head. Iruka, standing beside Naruto the whole time, nearly fainted in terror when his parents’ murderer descended so close to him. He followed Naruto quickly, as much to put some sort of distance between himself and the fox as to make sure that Naruto did not pitch over from weakness.

“What did you tell him?” Iruka thought to ask, curious.

“Huh?”

“When you spoke to him, I guess in his language,” Iruka clarified. “You obviously changed his mind. What did you say?”

Naruto smiled. “Just his name.”

Naruto went practically to the end of the fox’s snout before sitting down; in one quick snap, it could crush him to death. Iruka was alarmed, knowing full well that he would never be able to move fast enough to save Naruto or possibly even himself. But he stayed, because when it came to it Naruto was probably the most important person in his life, and come hell or high water, he was not going to turn away at the time his support was needed most. If that meant getting killed by the kyuubi as his parents had been, then that was what it meant.

The kyuubi, however, stayed quiet. Its pain seemed to diminish with its stillness, because the fine tremble that shook its body eased as the hours wore on. From time to time either the fox or Naruto would say something, and the other would respond. Once, Naruto reached over his shoulder to grab an enormous whisker and fiddle absently with it. The kyuubi’s body settled out and seemed to compress just a bit as it lost the dregs of its strength. Long ears relaxed and drooped.

Right at the end, Naruto looked up over his shoulder to the fox’s face and said as though speaking to a pet, “You’re a good boy.”

The kyuubi replied with a halfhearted snarl.

“Yeah, sorry. But it had to be said.”

Naruto leaned his head back against the kyuubi’s enormous muzzle, smiled warmly up into an intimidating red cat-like eye, closed his eyes, and stopped breathing. For a long moment that eye stared down at him. Then the fox closed its eyes too, let out a single massive sigh, and passed on just as the night wind and morning sun turned its blood-red coat into a conflagration.

For the first and final time, the kyuubi no youko had been tamed.

A stone shrine went up a short time later, in front of the creek that ran through the village park—a smooth carving of a young boy cradling the head of a large nine-tailed fox. A wide shelter was placed over it, and it became a popular spot for picnicking families or anyone caught out during storms. The statue was calming, many asserted, and more than once frightened children separated from their parents ended up there, either to orient themselves or to wait for rescue, so it seemed there was always an offering or two of thanks lying at the statue’s base. And from time to time someone would report seeing the boy, an unusually large red fox with nine tails, or a young woman with long red hair standing near the shrine. Occasionally all three would be present simultaneously, and usually it seemed that the boy and the fox were playing a game of some kind while the woman watched over them, but from time to time she also smiled sadly at the Monument of the past Hokage who had protected Konoha.

Years passed, and eventually everyone who had known the true story of the boy and the fox was gone. As with all legends, the reality of the incident faded and was replaced with a tale of far-reaching adventure to entertain the children who so often did not know the significance of the shrine and were impatient and uninterested in history. But the truly important aspects remained: the assertion that eternal war or eternal surrender were not the only ways to achieve equilibrium in an unbalanced world, the surprising significance of uniting with even one’s own enemy, the reassurance of forgiveness for inflicted harm, and the promise of a tenacious love. Yet even with so much of the story lost to time no one forgot the brave boy’s name, for it was there at the shrine as well, stamped deeply into the sturdy granite base of the statue so that all of time would remember it.

_Uzumaki Naruto—Hokage of Konoha_


End file.
